I Only Smile in my Sleep
by writing.is.my.anti.drug
Summary: My only request: don't screw with me. I've been screwed with and beaten around too many times, and I will no longer take it. I can no longer take being alive anymore. My own friends doubt I can live past seventeen. There's a fictional character.


Disclaimer: yeah…I don't own any of these characters except for Onyx…. but yeah…that's it I suppose

Chapter One

I tore the screen door open and ran out into the pouring rain, into whatever heavily wooded area I could find. Tears mixed in the rainwater, but any people who had passed by me in that dusky evening could've told the difference. I ran as far as I could into the trees before collapsing in sobs, frustration, and physical, mental, and emotional pain. I forced myself to stop; crying was a sign of weakness. I will refuse to let anyone in, refuse to feel anything anymore. It was making me sick. That was the last time my father was ever going to hurt me; the last time I would feel defeated, the last time I would feel altogether. I got up and brushed my damp, black and purple bangs out of my eyes. I calmly walked towards the place in which I entered, and back to my broken home.

I quietly opened the door, and walked into the kitchen. I took out a kitchen knife and proceeded to my father's room. He was sleeping. I hovered over him, breathing heavily, the knife clutched in my hand, shaking. It happened quickly. I stabbed him. Again, and again, and. . .

Onyx Vermillion woke up in her bed, in her dark room, from a nightmare she never wanted to come true.

Did I hate my father? Yes, I did. There was an empty pit in my beaten heart that needed to be filled, but that place was gone. My heart was locked now, and would be forever. I started shaking, crying silently. I also believed that crying was a sign of weakness; something that people could pick at after they stabbed you in the back. I stopped and made my usual morning escape into the darkness and dampness of the morning. I started walking towards...well, I didn't know exactly where I was going, and I didn't care. All I knew was that if I showed up at home, my father, sober or not, would beat my guts out. Literally. He did the same to my mother, and one day she died. My dad told the doctors she'd fallen off the roof. The only reason he even called a doctor so he wouldn't have to get rid of the body himself, or so I assume. He explained to me with a series of swears that if I ever told anyone, my fate would be the same. My father has never raped me, he just inflicts physical pain.

My mother was a pureblood. She grew up as a slut; I guess you could call her white trash. My father raped her, and she refused to get an abortion. When I was born she hated me. She picked a name she disliked. She stayed with my father for support; my dad wanted the tax benefits. I grew up to hate everything and everyone, and didn't trust anyone or anything either. Except for something. That school in England that forever changed my life; filling up a small portion of that black hole in my heart where the people who loved me were meant to be. It was the only place I could go to and not be unhappy and depressed all the time. The first time I attended was the first time I was happy. And the rare times I was happy were at Hogwarts.

My group of friends consists of the Black sisters, Severus, Lucius, and Remus Lupin. The only Gryffindor I befriended. All in all, I have four best friends, one stalker, and many annoyances. Severus, Remus, Narcissa, and Bellatrix were my best friends, my stalker is Lucius, and my annoyances are the entire population of the Gryffindor table, excluding one.

It was one week before I made my annual escape, and I needed to pack. I reluctantly climbed back in the house through my window, and barricaded myself in my room. I threw the entire contents of my room into my trunk, except for my old mattress; I didn't really have much, and snuck into the living room; I would leave by Floo Network. My father was lying on the couch; most likely drunk. I threw my trunk and broom into the fireplace, and stepped in. To my horror, before I could find the Floo powder, my father's eyes fluttered open, and he was up in a flash.

"What the hell are you doing you good for nothing piece of shit!" he bellowed. He advanced on me as I frantically searched for the powder. He grabbed me by the hair and hurtled me into a glass cabinet, shattering it.

"Get up!" he shouted. "Get up and fight back you little dipshit!" he yelled. He started kicking me in the ribs, and I tried to find my wand. I heard a sudden cracking sound after the third or fourth time he kicked me, and knew he'd yet again cracked my entire rib cage.

"You're the same as your fucking mother! You whore, you white piece of trash!" he said, picking me up and drop kicking me. I felt something warm trickle down my face rapidly, but refused to cry. I would only feel pain, and that would help me resist my father when his next attack towards me came.

"So you know what I'm gonna do? Huh? Answer dammit. Answer me you disgusting bitch! You sack of shit, I hate you, and I'm gonna kill you," he said pulling out a switchblade. He was very drunk, but I knew all that he said and did, he meant. He went too far when he pulled out the knife. With one swift movement I kicked him in the groin, he howled in pain as he dropped to the floor. I made a run for it. I grabbed my things and swung my limp leg over my broom, and flew off, leaving my home behind. That was the last time I would ever see it.


End file.
